


Wimbledon Afternoon

by Dawnwind



Category: The Professionals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 21:56:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dawnwind/pseuds/Dawnwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet stake-out watching tennis and tackling the baddies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wimbledon Afternoon

Wimbledon Afternoon

"Did you know that this is what Americans call lemonade?" Bodie held up his glass of squash, squinting in the sunlight.

"Lemonade's got fizz." Doyle took a drink as if analyzing the contents of his glass. "This is the life—undercover at Wimbledon."

"If we'd have been smart, we would have had Cowley pony up for the expensive seats." Bodie pointed across the court to where Queen Elizabeth sat under a wide sun hat watching Navratilova swing her racket. She was squashing her competition, a small brunette from a Soviet block country.

"I don't mind the plebian seats." Doyle grinned, lowering his eyes flirtatiously. "We can guard little miss tennis pro and stay under the radar."

"You toy with me, you bounder!" Bodie rounded his vowels like a chap who'd come out of a posh school. "I'd take my racket to your arse if I could."

"Oi." Doyle shook his finger, pointing at the court. "Keep your mind on the obbo until we've found the sod who threatened Svetlana."

"She's bound to lose against Navratilova at any rate. Not much point after that." Bodie tasted his tart squash with satisfaction. "Match and set, she's lost."

"Only one more game to go, and then it's love all." Doyle pushed his sunglasses up, covering up those gorgeous eyes.

A pity, but it forced Bodie to focus on the game. He saw the flash of a rifle barrel seconds before the shot echoed across the famed tennis club.

The Queen's security hustled her out with alacrity as Bodie leapt right over the net, bowling over Svetlana in his race to get to the shooter before the man escaped. He didn't have to look behind him to know that Doyle was on his tail, as always. 

Bodie tackled his prey with a wild jump from five feet back. The shooter hadn't had time to disassemble his gun and get away.

"All in an afternoon's work!" Doyle grinned. "And for the record, I prefer squash to lemonade. The bubbles go up me nose."

"You irritate the hell out of me, too, angelfish." Bodie sat on the shooter, holding out his hand. "Got cuffs or do I have to do all the work meself?"


End file.
